


The One In Control

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU: Established Relationship, Control, Explicit Sexual Content, Handcuffs, Ice, M/M, PWP, Power Play, Roleplay, Sex Games, Spanking, Toys, blindfold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3226919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is in the mood to play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One In Control

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe.
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments --they mean so much.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_Come home now. SH_

Sherlock looked up at the clock. He knew John would be close to finishing up anyway, so his demand wasn't too unreasonable. But he had been in a mood all day and had only just realised what it was that was going on with him. He had an itch that needed scratching. It had been a little while since they'd done something like this, but he hoped John would be able to read between the lines and come home ready to play.

John was finishing some files when his phone vibrated on the desk. He moved to read the message, biting his lip. Sherlock asked him to come hundreds of time but this -- even through the phone he could hear this tone.

_Ten minutes, I'm almost done. -JW_

_Now John. SH_

John hurried through the last of them, putting them away quickly.

_Okay. I'm coming. -JW_

Sherlock stood up from his chair and took his mug into the kitchen to rinse it out. He went into his bedroom and double checked his drawer to make sure he had everything he needed. Then he walked into the bathroom, splashed a little water on his face, and checked his hair in the mirror. He didn't really know why John fancied this purple shirt so much, but he knew he did. He went back into the sitting room to wait for John.

John took a cab home and, because he'd finished the filing anyways, he offered the driver double fare if he got there in five minutes. He hurried up the stairs when they finally got there, paused to catch his breath, and then walked in. "I'm home," he smiled, hanging his jacket.

"Stay there," Sherlock said. He had turned his chair so he was facing the doorway. "Lock the door," he said.

John locked the door and turned to face Sherlock, not stepping into the sitting room yet. He waited for Sherlock to tell him what to do next. "I missed you today," he said, smiling softly.

Inside, Sherlock smiled a little. "On your knees, John," he said instead. He recrossed his legs. "Perhaps you could show me how much you missed me," he said. "Crawl to me."

John moved down onto his knees, slowly coming closer. "I did miss you a lot," he said, pausing when he finally made it to Sherlock's knees.

Sherlock reached down and touched John's face. He uncrossed his legs and separated them. He pressed on John's head until it was lying against his thigh. He petted John's hair. "Are you going to be a good boy tonight?" he asked.

John wobbled a bit but knew better than to put his hands on Sherlock before he was allowed to. Not always. Just during these games. "Yes," he answered, gazing up at him.

"And you know what will happen if you don't?" Sherlock said, gripping John's hair and pulling it a little.

"Yes, I know," John said. He didn't make a sound when his hair was pulled. It wasn't the first time or the worst.

Sherlock looked into John's eyes -- god, he loved John. "Stand up now and turn around," he said, letting go of John's hair.

John lifted away from his thigh and stood, slowly turning around to face away from Sherlock. "What are we going to do?"

"Shh, no need for talking," Sherlock said, standing up behind John. He slid his hands under the edge of John's jumper and then pulled it up over his head, dropping it to the floor next to him. He then moved his hands around John's chest and began unbuttoning his shirt. Once they were undone, he pulled it slowly off John's arms, pulling his arms behind him. With John's shirt was off, Sherlock grabbed his wrists, holding them together behind his John's back. "Are you ready to have no control, John?" he whispered into his ear.

John shivered as Sherlock's hot breath hit his ear. No talking. He nodded, resisting turning his head to look at Sherlock. He was already getting hard with just these small actions. He was glad Sherlock had thought to lock the door.

Still holding John's wrists, Sherlock slipped his other hand in his jacket pocket and retrieved the handcuffs. He clicked them around John's wrists. "We're going into the bedroom now," he said, stepping forward to push John ahead. He grabbed John's elbow and led him in. He stood John near the bed and then Sherlock moved and sat down on the chair in the corner. "The key is there, John," he said, nodding towards the middle of the bed. "Bring it to me, please."

John turned and looked at the key. He considered different ways of getting it -- pulling the covers closer, rolling over to it, crawling on the bed -- but then he looked at the distance instead and made up his mind. He bent over the bed, grabbed the key with his teeth, just barely, and grunted as he forced himself standing again without his arms. He turned and walked over to Sherlock, showing it to him.

Sherlock stood up and kissed John's mouth, sucking the key into his own. "Good boy," he said. He reached round and unlocked the cuffs, pulling John's hands around his body and kissing them. He let one go and in the other he placed the handcuffs. "We'll need one of these hands later," he said. "You choose which one. Then get on the bed and cuff the other one to the headboard." He sat back in the chair, crossed his legs and waited.

John pressed into the kiss while he had the chance, smiling wide at the praise. He went over to the bed and climbed up, cuffing his right hand to the bed. It was wishful thinking that he'd be allowed to wank but just in case he'd need his left hand.

Sherlock watched John do what he had told him to do. He walked over to the bed and leaned down to kiss his mouth. Then he reached for John's belt buckle, opening it and unzipping John's trousers. He slipped his fingertips in and felt John's cock through his pants. Then he stepped away and said, "Be a good boy while I'm gone," and left the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Wait," John called to the already closing door. He sighed and stared at the ceiling. Where had he gone? For how long? He glanced at the door again and two minutes felt like two hours. He slipped his free hand into his trousers, palming softly.

Sherlock went into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. He got out another glass and put two ice cubes into it. He took a sip of wine and stood at the counter, listening to any noise from his room. He didn't hear anything. He moved quietly, holding the two glasses, opened the door and stepped in.

"I don't remember saying you could touch, John," he said. "That's a shame -- you had been being so good." He set the glasses on the nightstand. "Other hand up," he instructed. He took the key from his pocket, unlocked the cuff around the headboard, slipped it through the slats and cuffed John's other hand above his head as well. He took an ice cube from the glass and touched it to one of John's nipples. "Does it sting?" he asked.

"But you left my hand free," John murmured, squirming away from the ice.

"I said we'll be needing that hand later. Not now. And not until I say," Sherlock said. He rested the ice cube on John's nipple. He crawled up onto the bed, over John. He moved his mouth to John's chest, using his tongue to push the ice cube back and forth. Then he sucked each ice cube into his mouth, chewing quickly and swallowing. He dropped down to John's nipple again, holding it between his teeth and pulling it a little. He reached down with one hand to pull open John's trousers properly. Then he moved his body down, using both of his hands to remove the rest of John's clothes. He got off the bed and stood, looking down at John, before moving to the nightstand again. He pulled out a bottle of lube, a large plug and a paddle. He balanced all three on John's belly. "You're not in control, John, I am. You don't do anything unless I give you permission. Do you understand?"

John recognised the things Sherlock had set on him. "I'm sorry," John said, looking over at him. "I understand the rules."

Sherlock reached for the lube and plug. "This is what is going to happen now," he said. Then he picked up the paddle and said, "This is what will happen if you disobey again." He set it on the other pillow. He moved between John's legs, pulling them apart. He poured some lube into his hand and covered everywhere between John's legs, but did not touch his cock. He slipped one finger inside John and then pulled it back out. He stroked the plug and pushed the tip inside John's hole. "Will you be a good boy and take all of this inside you?" he asked. "Nice and slow but all the way in. Or will I have to use the paddle?" He looked up at John who was watching him closely.

"I'll be good . . . I can take it all," John said, even though he'd hardly been prepared. He wanted to prove he could listen and free up one hand again.

"Relax your body, love," Sherlock said softly, pushing just a bit in. With his other hand, he gripped John's thigh. "I need you open for me later." He pushed in a little more slowly. He paused a minute and then said, "Take a deep breath, pull it into you because you want to be ready for me later."

John took a deep breath, relaxing and pulling the toy into his body with a soft groan.

When John inhaled, Sherlock pushed the toy gently. Once it was seated inside him, Sherlock leaned over and put a soft kiss on one of John's thighs.

"I'm a good boy," John said, tugging his hands. "Can't we free one hand again?"

"You're an impatient boy, and impatience is rarely good. Especially not this evening," Sherlock said. He leaned over John's body again, his mouth hovering over John's cock as he spoke. "Do you like when you've got something inside you, John?" he said, his hot breath covering John's now hard cock.

John sighed and tugged at his hands uselessly. When he felt Sherlock's breath on his cock, he bit his lip but didn't move. "Yes, I do," John said, lifting his head to watch.

"One day I'll send you filled to work and I'll come take you at lunch, knowing you'll be ready for me. Would you like that, Doctor Watson?" Sherlock said. He dropped the tip of his tongue to John's cock and licked lightly.

"Y-yes," John nodded, dropping his head on the bed again.  He thought of that scenario and felt heat coil in his belly.

Sherlock sucked just the head into his mouth. As he did, he reached down and tugged on John's balls, tapping the end of the plug with his fingers. He could already taste the sex on John. Then he lifted his head, got up and went to sit in the chair again.

John moaned gratefully but it dissolved into a groan as Sherlock pulled away. John whined softly, "I was good -- please come back."

"I'm sorry, have you forgotten that you have no control here? Do you want me to leave you alone for you to have a good think about who is in control?" Sherlock asked, still sitting across the room. He sat a little forward and took off his jacket, lying it smoothly across the back of the chair.

John sighed and licked his lips, trying to be still. "I'm sorry."

Sherlock stood and moved to the end of the bed. "I love looking at you like this, John," he said softly. "I love that you trust me, that you know I'll take care of you." He crawled up on to the bed over top of John, dipping his head to lick his cock as he continued to move up John's body. He stopped at his chest, straddling it, leaning over to push a few pillows under John's head to lift it. "Your mouth," he instructed as he undid his trousers and pulled out his hard cock.

John offered a small thank you as Sherlock came back over and gave him attention again. He gazed up at him, opening his mouth obediently.

Sherlock guided himself onto John's tongue, pressing further into his mouth. He kept one hand on his cock but wrapped the other one around John's head, holding his hair.

John closed his lips around Sherlock and tried moving as much as he could from this position. He hummed softly, gazing up at Sherlock's face.

"That's my good John," Sherlock said. He closed his eyes, feeling John's wet, warm mouth. He held his head, pressing it towards his body a bit. He felt an urge to push in, but tried to use his hand to direct a rhythm.

John hummed and hollowed his cheeks, his eyes now moving over Sherlock's torso. That purple shirt -- it was amazing the effect it had on John. He pulled at his hands as if he'd forgotten, wanting to touch him so badly. He pulled his legs up to feel a bit of movement from the plug before laying them flat again.

Sherlock pushed a bit deeper into John's mouth, gripping and pulling his hair a little more. "God," he exhaled. Then he pulled out and lifted his cock, letting John lick his balls. "Make everything wet," he instructed. He reached over and uncuffed one of John's hands. "We'll be needing this one soon," he said, pulling John's hand down to rest it on the bed for a few minutes.

John sucked Sherlock balls into his mouth, licking everything he could. He was so caught up in what he was doing that he got carried away. He brought his free hand to Sherlock's hip, slid it into his shirt, and touched his bare stomach and sides.

"John," Sherlock said sharply. He moved back a bit so both John's mouth and hand were out of reach. "Why do you keep breaking the rules?" he asked. He tucked himself back into his trousers and zipped up. He shifted off of John. "Roll on your belly," he commanded as he picked up the paddle.

As soon as Sherlock said his name, John realised what he was doing. He pulled his hand back quickly and shook his head. "I forgot -- I'm sorry," he said quickly.

"I said roll over, John," Sherlock said, standing and moving to the end of the bed.

"I thought that's why you freed me," he said as he turned around onto his belly. He felt the plug moving the whole way around.

"You don't need to think, John. Just listen and obey," Sherlock said. He kneeled on the bed behind John. He slid an arm under John's belly and pulled him up a bit. "On your knees and your free elbow," he said, smoothing his hand over John's arse cheeks as he waited for John to get in position. He slid the paddle between John's cheeks, tapping it lightly on the end of the plug. "I do all this for you," he whispered, tapping it again. "And you won't follow the rules . . ."

Sherlock smacked John's arse with the paddle. He watched the skin begin to turn pink. He smacked the other cheek. Three smacks on each cheek, and then he threw the paddle back onto the pillow and bent over to kiss the tender skin lightly. He trailed his tongue down John's crack and pushed on the plug with his chin as he reached round John's hip and gripped John's cock tightly. "There's so much I want from you," he said quietly. "Let me take it."

John didn't make a sound until the last smack came down. He twitched and whimpered softly, nodding into the pillow. "You can take anything . . .I'm yours," he said quietly. John knew they both knew that this was all for him -- that his issues with control made him want this and he loved that Sherlock was willing to do it.

Sherlock let go of John's cock and ran his palm over John's red cheeks. He gave a quick smack and then helped John to turn over on his back again. He got off the bed and said, "Your eagerness is getting you in trouble this evening. Perhaps this will help." He pulled a scarf from the drawer and tied it around John's eyes. "Do you understand now, John? You have no say. You can't see, you can't decide. All you need to do is obey." He stepped a little away. "Tell me you understand," Sherlock said.

"But I was already punished," John said, lifting his head to try to look through the bottom. "Please let me look, please."

Sherlock quietly removed his trousers as John spoke. God, he was so gorgeous. "No, John. These rules aren't new to you. You broke them," he said, getting back on the bed. He straddled John's waist but didn't lower himself down against him. "Give me your free hand," he said.

John didn't say anything else. He lifted his hand carefully and waited for Sherlock to guide it.

Sherlock poured some lube over John's fingers and rubbed them quickly. Then he directed John's hand between Sherlock's legs. "Open me up," he ordered, lifting his hips a bit. "You love watching my face when your fingers first go in, John, but you won't get to watch tonight." He held the headboard with his free hand, and with the other he pushed John's fingers towards his hole.

"Please," John whispered uselessly and he pushed his fingers into Sherlock.  He started a steady rhythm right away, trying to imagine his face as he worked him open. He was hard and leaking on his own belly, murmuring softly about how lovely Sherlock was and how thankful he was.

Sherlock let out a long, low moan as John's fingers pushed into him. He leaned both hands on the headboard now and pushed down against John's hand before lifting up again. "I wish you were watching, John," he gasped softly. "I wish you could see me fucking myself with your fingers."

"Please . . . please let me see," John begged, pushing in another finger.

Sherlock dropped a hand to his own cock and started stroking it hard and fast as he bounced against John's hand. "Maybe I won't need to fuck you," he panted. "Maybe this is all I need tonight and when I'm done, I'll go out. I'll cuff your other hand and leave you here on the bed, filled but aching for relief." His hand moved even faster.

"Please don't," John begged instantly. "Please . . . I'll be good. I will."

"Open your mouth, John, now," Sherlock ordered. He kept thrusting against John's fingers as he furiously stroked himself and then he felt the tension start to fill his whole body and his cock jerked and sprayed into John's mouth. He stroked himself through his orgasm, dropping his head slightly as he watched his come cover John's tongue. "Fuck," he exhaled. He took a few deep breaths and then wiggled a little, before swinging his leg over as John's fingers moved away from his body. He lay down next to him for a moment to gather himself. He looked over at John and said quietly, "Put your free hand over your head again."

John desperately needed release and he waited for Sherlock's hand -- anything. But instead it was another order. He lifted his hand slowly, licking his lips. "Please?" he asked, turning his head a bit.

Sherlock shook his head but then remembered the blindfold so he said, "No, John." He reached for the handcuff key on the bedside table and cuffed both John's hands again. Then he stood up and walked round to put his trousers on, doing the zip up so that John could hear. He was humming a bit to himself. He picked up the bottle of cologne John had given him, sprayed the air and walked through it. Then he leaned over John and untied the blindfold scarf. He held the handcuff key up so John could see it and set it back on the bedside table. He went to the chair and retrieved his jacket, which he slipped on, and then stopped and looked in the mirror, fussing his hair a bit. "How do I look?" he asked John, turning to face him.

The sounds of Sherlock obviously getting dressed were making John's stomach twist. When he took the blindfold off John shook his head. "Please don't leave," John said, looking him up and down. "Please . . . you already punished me and I've been good since."

Sherlock ignored John's pleas. "Do I look fuckable? Would you say I look fuckable?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes. Sherlock, please . . . fuck me. Please don't go." John didn't want anyone to see Sherlock in that shirt.

"Good. I'm glad I look fuckable because I want to fuck someone tonight. It's a shame there's not a good boy at home I could fuck, but alas, we must face the hand we are dealt." He looked John up and down. "Yes, it's a shame." Then he stepped over and picked up the glass of wine, which he drank down in one. He tied the scarf around John's eyes again. Then he said, "Well, I'm off now, John. You needn't wait up." He left the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Then he walked to the flat door, paused for the length of time it'd take him to put on his coat and scarf, unlocked the door and then opened and shut it. He softly leaned against it, waiting. It had been a while since they had played this version of the game, but once it had come to Sherlock's mind, he knew it would happen.

"I am a good boy -- I am! Sherlock please --" John cut off as the blindfold was put back on. He moved his head and eyes wildly as if he would be able to see that way, groaning when he heard the door shut. He was painfully hard, rutting into the air for any sort of release. But he didn't hear the outer door and he paused. He knew this game.

The first time John had used the safe word -- the only time he ever had -- thinking that Sherlock had really brought another man back with him. The second and third time had gone better. There really was something arousing about it, thinking of a stranger stumbling on him this way and taking over.

He had no idea how long Sherlock would be or if he even really left. In desperation John twisted and rolled his hips into the bed but the second one almost made him come so he turned back quickly. That would not be okay. He continued uselessly rutting into the air and calling for Sherlock to come back, hoping it would be soon.

After what seemed like an eternity but was probably only a few moments, Sherlock walked slowly towards his bedroom. He opened the door and stepped in. "John," he said, "I'm home." He moved over to his chair and sat down, looking over at John so vulnerable and sexy on the bed.

"While I was out I met someone," he said. "I told him about you and his interest was piqued." He stood up and moved over to sit at the edge of the bed. "I told him you were cuffed to my bed and filled -- so ready -- but how you'd disobeyed me." He swallowed. "This man assured he could help you learn your lesson. I want to watch him teach you a lesson, John. Do you understand what I'm saying, John?" He reached over and touched John's ankle, pulling on it to separate John's legs. "Say 'yes, Sherlock' if you understand."

John bit his lip as Sherlock spoke, listening carefully. _It's not a stranger._ John kept repeating that phrase in his head as Sherlock talked, as he felt the touches on his body. He opened his legs and nodded. "Yes, Sherlock."

Sherlock rubbed John's leg. "Good boy, John," he said softly. He reached up and uncuffed John's hands. "We'll have to remove these because he wants you on the floor. But the blindfold stays on -- he's shy. I'm afraid he might also be a little rough but it's just to show you how to obey." He let a hand stroke down John's arm and across his chest. "On the floor now on all fours. I'm going to sit in the chair and watch, okay?" Sherlock moved to the chair for just a moment, waiting for John to get on the floor. His cock was aching and he rested his hand on his lap, trying to be patient.

John scooted to the edge of the bed slowly and got on his knees. He itched to pull the blindfold off but he didn't. He crawled away from the bed, turning his arse to the chair. "Is this okay?"  

"Yes," Sherlock said, "I think he likes that very much." Sherlock ran his hand over John's lower back and arse cheeks. He slid his fingertips between the cheeks and rested one on the end of the plug. "Are you ready, John? Are you ready for him to take this out and fuck you?"

"I've been so good . . . couldn't you do it? Please?" John asked, playing along with the game.

"I don't think so, John," Sherlock said. "I want to watch." He dropped down to his knees and opened his trousers. He slowly pulled the plug from John's body and hummed at the sight of John so open for him. He lubed himself and pressed fully into John, sinking into him. "God," he called out. "Do you like it, John?" he asked. "Do you like being good and giving away control?" Sherlock's voice was raspy, his breath already changing. He began moving, thrusting hard into John.

John whimpered as the toy came out -- not because it hurt but because he almost came right there on the floor. "Yes," he moaned softly, his body jerking with each thrust from Sherlock. "Please."

Sherlock let his body go -- sometimes it was easier to lose himself if he could pretend he was another person, a person who only cared about his own satisfaction. He kept thrusting into John, pulling his hips back towards his own, wanting to be deep inside him. "Do you like this, do you like getting fucked like this?" he asked in a voice that was barely his own.

John fell onto his elbows, pushing back against Sherlock as he grunted softly. His erection was properly painful now. "Please . . . please can I touch?" he begged into the floor.

John's voice slipped into Sherlock's brain, and he was overwhelmed for a moment: playing didn't matter anymore, only John did. He slowed and slid out of John, helping him to turn over onto his back. He pulled the scarf from John's eyes and then lay on top of him, pushing into him again. He reached down for John's cock as he leaned in to kiss him. "It's only ever you, John, and only ever me. I love you. Tell me you love me and we'll come." His hand barely moved on John -- he knew he must be ready to explode -- but he wanted to hear John's words.

John gazed up at Sherlock, panting heavily. "I love you . . . so much," he breathed. "Please let me come..."

Sherlock dropped his mouth to John's neck as he quickly and firmly stroked John. "Let go, John," he moaned softly, waiting for John's orgasm.

John threw his head back and called out, finally letting go. The intensity made his sight go white for a moment as he arched and writhed under Sherlock. He squeezed around him, clutching at his shoulders as he moaned his name.

It was almost like Sherlock could feel everything that John was feeling and he pushed as deep as he could and let himself go as well. He moaned John's name into John's neck, panting heavily.

John slumped back against the floor, panting heavily as he lifted his arms to wrap around Sherlock loosely.

Sherlock let his body rest against John's, his chest still heaving from exertion. "I meant it," he whispered. "Always . . . just me and you." He pressed a kiss against John's neck.

"I know, love. It-it was amazing," John murmured, finally catching his breath a little bit. "Oh God," he sighed.

Sherlock shifted slightly, sliding out of John. "Fuck," he said. "I'm exhausted now." He made a little laugh. "I don't know why I fancied playing tonight, but thanks for playing with me."

"Any time," John smiled. "I'd like to get off the floor, I think."

"God, I hope I can," Sherlock said, pushing himself up on his arms. "Let's lay in the bed for a bit and then we can get up and start the evening properly." He helped John up and moved them slowly to the bed. They were quiet for a while, each knowing that whatever games they played, there was nothing more perfect than this.


End file.
